


blurred ‘til the end (will the rain come?)

by blueaces



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, not bad though promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 12:14:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20309326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueaces/pseuds/blueaces
Summary: With the world suddenly empty, Taeil figures he can try to live his life with no qualms. Little does he know he’s not exactly alone.





	blurred ‘til the end (will the rain come?)

**Author's Note:**

> this was one of my favorites to write so far even if it is a little short, maybe a little fast. have fun.

No one thinks about the end of the world in terms that aren’t devastating wars, zombies, and aliens. When talked about, it’s something far off, not to be seen by the present day’s eyes. People are too afraid to think about the _what ifs_, pushing it to the back of their minds to be forgotten after the topic is brought up, random thoughts boiling to the surface in the light of the moment.

Taeil was a college student majoring in history, meaning he needed to think about the past to put motions into action in the present to make a greater future with no repeated mistakes. But the emphasis is on _was_. Attending school stopped mattering when people started catching a mysterious illness that had them dead before the end of the week. Everyone around him falls to it, dropping like flies, one moment walking around with no problems and the next bedridden and unable to form coherent sentences.

He waits for the day it will be him, waking up to violent coughs and blood or not waking up at all. Yet it never comes, and he’s left to watch the community crumble, his professors, his classmates, his parents, wondering why it didn’t take him in its grasp too.

Was it contagious? Was it already in the air, water, earth, suddenly awoken by an unnatural force? He’s not sure, and he thinks no one else had the time to figure it out either or he wouldn’t be in the current situation, vestigial remains alone in his own agenda.

A peaceful death would've been better than the silence greeting him every morning. Or at least he thinks it's morning. The clouds never stopped forming, skies perpetually grey and threatening rain, however, a drop of water had yet to grace the cityscape. Rain hasn’t poured down since the day the illness spread. How it correlates with each other leaves him perplexed, but he can’t exactly do anything about it. Nature does what she pleases, even if it hurts the living who rely on her.

Days pass by in blurs, one after the other without a definite end. He stays alive for the purpose of staying alive. Maybe somewhere out there, there are other people living, breathing, working to understand what went wrong or maybe just working to survive. Though, he doesn’t hold out any hope of coming across another being that isn’t a creature of the trees and his garden.

His parents were always into gardening, producing their own vegetables and fruits, talks about how it was much better for the planet and their crying wallets. He has them to thank for his green thumb and the well they insisted on creating in their backyard, still full with previous rainfall. The thought of what to do when it finally empties is one he likes to stray from, instead focusing on collecting water bottles and jugs when the thirst comes.

In these houses he scrounges around through for anything essential or entertaining, checking to make sure if there was anyone alive became an unconscious routine. He knocked on doors out of courtesy before stepping inside, the entryways always cold and missing the liveliness of a home. Candles sit with burned wicks unlit, dishes no longer wet on the drying rack, couches with the impressions of the families who sat in them. Some homes still have plates of rotting food on the dinner tables, half-eaten and spilling onto the floor as if they left in rush, not caring about the mess they would never have to clean up.

Taeil steps around all of this, centered on the necessities and not the lives that lived in these houses, lives that crossed here, especially when he comes up empty.

When his taste buds crave something other than the produce in his garden, he ventures to grocery and convenience stores to pick at what had yet to spoil. Splurges on bag of chips and ramen come and go but in bursts, not wanting to run out too quickly on processed food when there was no one left to manufacture it. All are placed into a shopping cart to be rolled out of the store, repercussions non-existent as he jogs to gain speed before hopping onto the bottom of the cart to race through the aisles. There was no one to see him take his fill or the small curl of his lips except for the inactive cameras in their glass globes on the ceilings.

Of course he finds no one during these escapades, but it still doesn't imbue him with comfort. Every house, complex, store building uninhabited. There should be bodies, thousands of them, but they disintegrated not long after they fell ill, the body unable to handle the sickness ravaging it. Taeil tries not to pay attention to the piles of dust littering random areas of homes and stores and streets, inching past the only remnants of the people formerly occupying those spaces.

It’s lonely, in the sense he has no one to share the end of the earth with, but Taeil had always liked being alone. He didn’t have any friends to begin with, just acquaintances from classes that only lasted the semester. And he was totally okay with it, content to sitting near the windows in the university’s library, switching between quiet studying and gazing at the squirrels chasing each other around the quad.

What does bother him is the lack of noise. There’s no lawnmower starting up at the brink of dawn, the loud drone simultaneously waking him out of his slumber and then lulling him back to sleep. There’s no old lady across the street greeting him on the occasion he steps outside, none of her giddy grandchildren present to spin around in their tricycles. There’s no passing vehicles in the distance, no foolish teenagers racing their upgraded trucks down the long stretches of streets in the last hours of the night. There’s no one jogging on the sidewalks or walking their dogs, music leaking out of their headphones, no one tending to their gardens or setting up fires to grill meats and vegetables. It’s Taeil and the birds singing to each other and the squirrels hiding pecan nuts in the ground to forget later and the insects buzzing about sweet scents arising from the flora.

The animals and the plants were the only living things to be present, somehow escaping the clutches of the illness. It's the one point in life bringing him any sense of being, ensuring him he's supposed to be there even when it feels he should be dead along with the rest of them. If the animals can roam around without a care in the world and the plants inhale carbon dioxide and exhale oxygen ceaselessly, then Taeil can live, maybe not_ thrive_, but live, pacified.

He's visited his college before, a twenty minute drive now turned into an almost three hour walk. Driving the car stationed in his driveway seemed useless for a trip that used to be so short, a waste of gas which isn't something he could constantly restock on. Rather, in the back of his mind, he's saving it for a ride he has no idea will ever come, more of a "just in case" deal. The distance doesn't bother him anyways, not when he's got nothing better to do with his time. Street signs and the occasional car parked on the side of the road kept him company, memorizing the license plates until the next one appeared. His feet ached by the time he spotted the familiar trees lining the entrance, welcoming him in like they always do. He stopped by the pond to greet the ducks and the infamous alligator he has never locked eyes within his years attending the school, that day not any different from before.

Taeil didn't think he hoped to see someone, anyone there, yet his heart sank just the tiniest bit lower upon no one strolling about the campus, backpacks hanging off their shoulders. The sliding doors don't work and prying them open with his fingers was futile, so he settled for the back doors usually for fire drills, miraculously unlocked after all these weeks. There’s a stillness in the halls unlike any other place he's scouted, stifling because it should be crawling with students, people he’s had classes with or breezed by in passing, unknown but acquainted with those faces. All he can think about is getting to the library, the one area on campus where his shoulders weren’t stiff from holding up, and he’s running to the second floor, noise be damned. Breaking through the quiet for his favorite place, the school's library a haven to escape to between lectures, was worth the loudness that will echo in his ears for days to come. It didn't resemble the public library a few blocks away from his home, but it did the job for when he was away.

Libraries weren’t like stores or restaurants. Those were for intermingling with people, whether it be friends gorging on food and exchanging conversation or the person bagging the groceries and wishing customers a nice day. Libraries held books to read and contemplate life and computers to scavenge the internet for whatever was intriguing that day. Virtually, there was no need to ever interact with someone there, even if people did talk in hushed whispers. About what, Taeil doesn’t know. It could’ve been about the book from the romance section, the knitting magazine showing new designs, Harry Potter living in his cupboard under the stairs. Taeil was too busy tucked away in his corner by the window to be interested in eavesdropping.

Content. He might not have exchanged words with anyone within the library, but he enjoyed their company from afar. He liked passing by the same man sitting in the same chair by the check-out counter, heads nodding in acknowledgement when it became certain they were both regulars, and he liked the kids shuffling around vying for their parents’ attention when the building blocks or the book about the rainbow fish sharing his beautiful scales with other fishes didn’t entertain them anymore. A vacant library meant silence where a constant buzz used to call home and being there in its absence felt out of place.

Four new books from his school’s library made themselves at home in the crook of his arms for the next couple of weeks, but it couldn’t quite replace the fine hum he would experience with books whose spines he knew like the back of his hand. An itch he can’t scratch, and if he was able to, it did nothing to soothe the prickling growing stronger as the days moved on.

There are days he walks past the library out of want, the old red brick calling for him, _come inside, we miss you_. But the silence he knows will be waiting for him taunts him, letting him walk further away to ignore its cries until he can’t handle the itch any longer.

He doesn’t know what to expect when he walks through the doors besides the same desolate rooms he’s been frequenting. Maybe a few books scattered on the floor here and there, maybe some chairs not pushed in under the tables. Surely not a man sitting in one of the bean bags halfway through a book about insects. Taeil doesn't know what to do, except to stop and take in the unbelievable sight.

Whether it’s the squeak of his shoes as he comes to his sudden halt or the looming presence he senses watching him, the man whips his head around so fast Taeil would worry about the condition of his neck if he wasn’t so disconcerted himself. It’s a stare down, Taeil taking in the well put together state of the man but not missing the purple under his eyes, until the man finally stands up, insect book set aside with metal bookmark covered in cartoon characters Taeil forgot existed.

“Kun.” When Taeil doesn’t answer, he continues. “That’s my name. Kun. I was reading on stinkbugs because I have an awful infestation going on, and they keep picking at my raspberry bush. I’m-“

“How are you alive?” He doesn’t mean to interrupt, but here stands another human being when all seemingly erased themselves off the face of the earth. If Taeil’s being honest, his brain is getting mindfucked and not in the best way.

Kun doesn’t seem too deterred by his outburst, the same pleasant expression holding onto his mouth still present. “I’m sure I have as much of an answer as you do.” He lowers himself back into the bean bag, gesturing to the one sitting in front of him in offering. “We can talk about it though, if you’d like.”

No, he would _not _like to talk about it, he’d like to know why the hell this Kun person is _here_. For Taeil, who had been alone for weeks, simultaneously trying to survive and search for anyone who could be alive, this was too much all at once. The smell of books, paper and fingerprints, hits him in one blow, reminding him of where he’s at, what should be the only thing here. It takes over his senses, overwhelming, and he tries not to seem affected to Kun. Covering his nose, Taeil begins stepping backwards, words muffled. “Stinkbugs don’t like the smell of mint or garlic all that much.” He’s out the door before Kun can speak again, leaving empty handed not like he intended to.

-

Taeil ponders (read: anxiously tenses up every few seconds) on what to do about the man from the library or _Kun_, as he so called himself. They weren’t even in the same room for more than five minutes, and yet it left him absolutely reeling. There’s also the thought Kun was just a figment of Taeil’s overactive imagination, which gets really carried away at times, but he doesn’t want to stick too much to that one for obvious reasons.

He can’t leave well enough alone, too curious as to why and how, and the library is soon welcoming him like an old friend again. The chance Kun will even be in the library on this day, at this time, is low, but he defies all odd when Taeil sees him lounging in the same bean bag from before. Excitement etches itself all over his face at the sight of Taeil, as if the previous encounter didn’t happen.

"I shredded some mint leaves and spread them in the soil and guess what? A significant reduction in those little buggers! How'd you know it would work?"

Taeil feels like in another time, when there would have been people passing by the two men as they conversated, he would have smiled, maybe even clapped in glee, at the enthusiasm. Now, he watches Kun with inquiring eyes, scratching behind his ear. "My parents have had a garden for as long as I can remember. I might have picked up a few things here and there."

Kun’s mouth forms an ‘o’ shape. "Are they-” He cuts himself off before he can get started. “Sorry that's a silly question for me to try and ask." The apology falls out, sincere. So out of place, so out in the open. Kun’s family must be gone too, yet he has room for sympathy for another when they share the same predicament.

"It's alright. No one knows anything about anything anymore." Are there even other people out somewhere to learn, continue being educated? With himself and Kun standing right in front of him, it's not as far off of a possibility as he originally thought. Taeil can’t decide if that induces fear to course through his veins or if it jumpstarts his heart with a hunger for human interaction. Has he gotten so used to being by himself that the thought of other people being alive is terrifying?

There’s a short pause, one for gathering themselves. Taeil wants to ask more about his raspberry bush, ask if he has more fruit, or maybe some vegetables. Questions about what he did _before_, who he was before everything around them came crashing down unceremoniously bounce enough in his head to make it rattle. Instead, the one rolling off his tongue is foolish, personal, one Kun might not answer because even now, it’s a little ridiculous.

“Can I ask you where you’re staying?” Sudden. Quite like this entire situation, but Taeil isn’t going to let himself run away from the only person in the vicinity. He’s figured he has done enough hiding in the past, and he’d rather not resume the habits. For once, he’ll allow this for himself.

Kun smiles knowingly. “I think I should know the name of a stranger before inviting him into my home.” In exchange for a hastily said name, Kun tells him where he lives. It’s the neighborhood across the street, one Taeil hasn’t had the need to search through yet. The houses there are roomy, lots of property surrounding it, almost too much for being in the city. He’s not complaining though, not when he sees the plethora of plants, trees, bushes filling up the space. Many are young, short stalks seeking out the covered sun, freshly planted seeds noticeable by the darker, overturned dirt. Then there are the large trees and fully matured bushes, ones that have clearly had years to flourish, sprouting pears and berries and tomatoes and peppers. He sees the aforementioned raspberry bush, two stinkbugs perched on the leaves, and Kun emerges with a bottle, politely spritzing the bush with a garlic-water concoction.

It’s Kun who brings up the topic of Taeil staying with him, after weeks of dancing around each other in the library, chatting about the numerous books beginning to pile on the sides of the bean bags. Taeil almost chokes on the water he just took a sip from, trying not to cough. With watery eyes, he agrees, of course he does, he can’t deny what he’s been wanting since the first contact; proximity. Not when he’s been going home to an empty house after hours of settling in next to Kun.

Kun. He’s steady. Something Taeil can rely on when his mind wanders, and Kun brings him back with a single breath. How they got here this fast boggles Taeil to no end, but he takes it in stride. The end of the world must do that to people, change all the pathways in their brain to have them let go easily, less battles and more wins. Inhibitions don’t prevail when he shares the entire city with a single person.

Curled up on Kun’s bed together is where Taeil loses himself the most. They are little moments, ones that should go by unnoticed, untouched, but Kun is either unusually perceptive or incredibly in tuned to Taeil. With one hand, he’ll follow the tenseness in Taeil’s shoulder, and the other will find its way on his chest. Kun doesn’t utter a word, waiting for him to speak first, if at all.

“Aren’t you worried we’re alone?”

And Kun will smile, not with his mouth but with his eyes, all the things he doesn’t know how to say sparkling back to Taeil in the quieting darkness. “You found me, didn’t you?”

There are the nights when Kun lies awake, trying to mimic sleep and not disturb Taeil with his movements. Taeil stays up with him; it’s not like he can sleep much anyways, but Kun makes it easier, even if all they do is close their eyes in pretend. The permanent bruising underneath their eyes in the mornings goes unmentioned, no need to ask about it when they both know what it means.

They’ve set up a routine of sorts, with a little variation when one of them is feeling spontaneous. A semblance of a late life, holding onto strings meant to be cut. Adaptation is the only way to stay alive, but they linger in their bubble with excuses of sentimentality, waiting for the burst to come.

It comes on a day like any other. Grey skies peaking in through library windows, their light source to peer over books until they tire from sitting and decide to take the walk over to Taeil’s house to check on the garden. They amble hand in hand, gravel crunching beneath their shoes the only sound accompanying them. Taeil's listening to Kun’s detailed anecdote on the gripping murder mystery he’s currently reading when he hears the gravel scraping against each other from somewhere in front of them. He might've passed it off as an animal crossing the street, but the heaviness and the steady pound of feet made him pause, causing their arms to yank for a second. At the pull, Kun tilts his head, mouth opening to ask what's wrong before Taeil silences him with a finger and points in the direction of the footsteps.

The morning fog hasn’t lifted yet, all they can make out is a slowly forming human-shaped figure in the distance approaching them.

Another person. Taeil’s knees would’ve gone out on him if Kun’s clasp on his hand wasn’t so weighted.

He thinks the person must see them too through the fog, their footsteps quickening. Neither of them breathe as the person gets closer and closer until he's standing not but two feet away from them. The first thing Taeil registers about him is_ tall_. Soft features contrasting with a lean body built for the life of after, his clothes ripped at the seams like he fought his way to get here. Kun’s hand tightens around Taeil’s, sturdy.

“Oh! Wow, I really didn’t expect to find a damn thing on this journey, but here you two are! I’m Jungwoo.” A soft voice too, yet it carries, power in the dips of his vowels.

Taeil has the strange urge to trust him, but he pushes it away for the time being, caution taking over. “Hello. I’m Taeil. This is Kun. How are you… here?” The million dollar question, it seems. Jungwoo takes it effortlessly, unoffended like he’s answered it on a hundred occasions.

“I dunno, but it’s crazy! There’s no point in me asking you guys since the confusion seems mutual.” He cards his fingers through his hair, hand on his hip with a sense of ease. “Anyways, I’ve been walking for days. I didn’t want to use a car in case I scared anyone off.”

That catches Kun’s attention, eyebrows quirking up. “You’ve been looking for people?”

“Yeah, to grow our ranks. Two heads is better than one, or multiple heads in our case. There’s a small group of us. A ragtag bunch, but we’ve managed to round each other up over the space of the nearest counties.” Jungwoo’s eyes dart between the two of them, the slightest bit of hesitance. “Obviously this is an invitation to come with me, if that wasn’t spelled out enough.”

Taeil is slow to share a look with Kun when he shouldn’t have been, the clear response in his gaze, and Taeil’s tipping over, eager, oh so eager.

“You can use my car for the trip back. Been waiting for a moment like this.”

Upon reaching Taeil’s house, they gather all the ripe produce in his garden, clothes, the first aid kit, whatever they think could be useful, into Taeil’s car. Neither of them are sure if they’ll be coming back, but they don’t mind too much either way. Jungwoo drives, knowing where exactly they are headed to, with Kun and Taeil in the backseat. While he stares out the window, the weather progresses into an angrier being, darker than they’ve ever been clouds staring back at him.

The sky rumbles, once, twice, and then it rains for the first time, the heavens pouring on them like they are making up for lost time, lost showers. Water dribbles down the windows, forming patterns Taeil could only dream of when he missed the rain, crisscrossing and joining together to make larger drops. He wants to open the window, to feel the cool splashes dance on his palms, but he settles for tracing the trails, moving onto the next when one ends. Maybe he can think of a metaphor for that, how he’s gone from being by himself to Kun and now traveling to meet this group of people, a group of people he never thought would exist. How humans should continue even when they think the end is upon them, struggle to make an enjoyable life, but Kun cuts through the lines forming in his head with a single brush of his fingers against the hair growing below Taeil’s ears.

“Don’t think too hard. Just let it be.” The windshield wipers squeak from disuse, and Taeil finds peace in a car destined for somewhere out of mind’s reach.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/lunitataeil)   
[cc](https://curiouscat.me/blueaces)


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